“That’s very determined of you. I must say I’m quite impressed.”
“Thank you,” Raphe muttered. “Nobody else seems to be.” Which wasn’t entirely true, he reflected, considering Gabriella.
“They’re idiots,” Coventry said. “Or rather, their way of thinking is idiotic. You might find this hard to believe, but I would welcome the opportunity to remove myself from the pack and try something different—expand my horizons, so to speak.”
“Without inviting scandal, I’d imagine,” Raphe said, still unsure of what to make of the odd contradiction of the man who sat before him.
“I have my reputation to uphold.” Coventry stated simply. “There’s a limit to what I can allow myself to do.”
“Perhaps you should try boxing,” Raphe suggested. “It can be wonderfully rewarding to fight an opponent—your strength against his—the harnessing and releasing of energy.”
“You speak as though from experience.” Coventry hesitated a moment, his eyes lingering on Raphe’s before asking, “Have you heard of Gentleman Jackson’s Boxing Academy, over on Bond Street? I know a few men who go there for sport, but I’ve always had the impression that it’s mostly for show—that they’re all too polite to actually hit each other properly. So I never bothered with it myself.”
Raphe took a sip of his drink and considered the idea that sprang to mind. He’d liked Coventry from the moment he’d met him. He hadn’t sneered or judged. Instead, he offered friendship. Raphe knew he’d be a fool not to welcome it, so he set his glass down and said, “Well, if you’re interested, we can visit the place together. I could actually do with a sparring partner, so if you’re willing . . .”
“Thank you, Huntley. I think that sounds like an excellent idea indeed—finally something real for me to sink my teeth into.”
“As for Lady Gabriella,” Raphe said, “I would like to ask that you refrain from interfering.”
“Are you certain?”
Raphe gave him a decisive nod. “Absolutely.” As amicable as Coventry seemed, he didn’t know him well enough to let him interfere with his affairs. If there was a way for him and Gabriella to be together, Raphe would find it on his own.
Boxing with Coventry the next day turned out to be precisely what Raphe needed in order to expel some of the frustration he felt about Gabriella.
“You need to learn how to harness your anger,” he told Coventry as they took a break to catch their breaths. “Otherwise, you’re just hitting with a repetitiveness that’ll tire you out before giving you the result you crave.” He’d then shown the duke a variety of different punches for him to practice, while others looked on with interest. Coventry had been right in his assumptions about the club. Most of the gentlemen here just stood in one spot while loosely hitting a small leather bag. They’d have little success against a real opponent.
“Can we call it a day?” Coventry asked an hour later. “I’m not accustomed to this much exertion. Not that I don’t like it. I have to admit that I haven’t had this much fun in ages, but I think I need to build my stamina slowly.”
“You’re right,” Raphe told him. “I forget that I’m more used to such vigorous exercise than most people.”
“Yes. It does appear as though you are.” They made their way toward the changing room so they could freshen up and put on clean shirts. “Why is that?”
Raphe hesitated, then decided to risk a bit of the truth. “I lost my parents when I was eight and grew up poor. When I got older, I started boxing for a living.”
“Well, I’ll be,” Coventry murmured. He gave Raphe a broad grin. “I knew you were interesting, Huntley, but this is better than I’d ever expected.” Removing his sweaty shirt, Coventry reached for his clean one and pulled it over his head. “Why don’t you come by my house for a drink. It’ll give us a chance to talk and get to know each other better.”
Raphe hesitated. “Will you tell me why you offered to help me ruin things for Fielding?” He’d been curious about that ever since Coventry brought it up.
The duke’s eyes darkened. “I’m afraid that’s a secret I cannot share since there are other people involved. Suffice it to say that the man crossed me once, and that I’ve never forgiven him for it.”
When Raphe returned home that afternoon, he was greeted by a pale-faced Pierson. “What is it?” Raphe instantly asked, fearing for his sisters.
Pierson stepped hastily back, ushering him inside. “Lady Gabriella is here. She’s waiting for you in the parlor. Has been here for the past couple of hours.”
Frowning, Raphe handed over his hat and satchel containing his dirty clothes, and went in search of his guest. Pierson wasn’t usually one to look frazzled, which naturally stirred a whole string of questions in Raphe’s head. Finding the room, he stepped inside and shut the door. Propriety be damned—as usual.
And then he saw her, and his heart sank. She was sitting on the sofa—right where she’d been when he’d kissed her. Except she looked very different now, her body hunched over as if in pain while she clutched a piece of paper between her hands. Hearing him enter, she raised her head to display a pair of red-rimmed eyes and a quivering smile. “I didn’t know who else to turn to,” she said, her voice trembling as she spoke.
And in that moment, Raphe felt his heart expand and break at the same exact moment. Because here she was, placing her faith in him, with the conviction that somehow, whatever her troubles might be, he’d be able to fix them for her. But at the same time, he could not bear to see her so distraught without a hint of the laughing eyes he’d grown so fond of. He stepped toward the spot where she was sitting, lowered himself beside her, and pulled her gently into his arms. “Shh . . .” he whispered against the top of her head. “Just tell me what happened, and I’ll see what I can do to help.”
A moment passed before she drew a shuddering breath and leaned back. “I received a letter from my sister, Victoria, today.” She raised the piece of paper she was holding. “My maid delivered it to me in secret.”
“I take it the news wasn’t good?”
Wincing, Gabriella shook her head. “It is the worst possible news I could have received.” With a sob, she put her hand to her mouth, as if to hold back the torrent of emotion that consumed her. “Mr. Connolly, the businessman who married her, abandoned her almost a year ago. Apparently, he took her dowry and fled the country, leaving her not only penniless, but alone with child.”
It was indeed a terrible scenario. Determined to hide his anger for Gabriella’s sake, Raphe calmly asked, “Where is your sister now? Did she give you an address? Some means by which to contact her?”
